The corridor was featureless and without doors—at first. But, suddenly, he noticed what had at first evaded his attention, a series of panels set in the walls. The secret of their locks was beyond him, until at last one seemed simpler than the others. Tony pressed a spring that was not too deftly hidden—and the panel opened. He looked through metal bars into a great cage. Briefly he thought of a menagerie, and then went sick and dizzy with nausea. This was, indeed, a “zoo”—but it did not hold animals. It held—gods! The artificial monsters created by Thotmes and his servants roamed within the cage, men with the heads of teratological mythos. Here, indeed, were the gods of Egypt, jackal-headed, ibis-headed, bull-headed, even some with the heads of crocodiles set hideously upon the human shoulders. So brightly lit was the cage that the beings did not see Tony, and he drew back swiftly, closing the panel. Obviously he could get no information here. He suppressed a strong impulse to use his carbon-gun to put these pitiful beings out of the unending nightmare of their existence. If this was a sample of Thotmes’ power, it would not be well for the Atlantean to rule over Earth! Tony went on along the corridor. From his slight knowledge of Egyptology, he knew that not all of the gods were malevolent, like Set. Both Osiris and Amon-Ra were benevolent, and so, indeed, was Isis. Perhaps in the beginning the whole religion had been a good one, and had become decadent and degenerate with the passage of ages in this hidden cavern-world. The obvious parallel was Satanism ... Yet this wasn’t a question of superstition. It was one of logic and science, of cold facts in which the mythology of a race had been rooted. Behind the veil of so-called “magic” lay an alien and powerful culture, born in Atlantis long before Ur and Akkad had risen in Sumeria, along the Tigris and Euphrates. On and on Tony went, a cold uneasiness rising within him. No one appeared to bar his path. More than once he glanced at the carbon-gun—but he was unprepared when the floor dropped beneath him, and he fell, writhing and twisting, into darkness. He landed heavily on a hard surface, and went down with a grunt and an oath. Before he could rise, he felt the weight of muscular bodies upon him. Handicapped by the darkness, he fought doggedly, but the gun was torn from his grasp almost at the outset of the struggle. He was not in complete blackness; there was a vague dim glow, but Tony’s eyes were not conditioned to it, as those of his enemies were. At last he lay prostrate, held motionless by iron hands that gripped him.